


An Infinitely Romantic Notion

by MillionDollarTeddyBear



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Awkward Crush, Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes Feels, Dorks in Love, Fluff, High School, M/M, Romance, Teen Romance, Teenage Dorks, Teenagers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22082785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillionDollarTeddyBear/pseuds/MillionDollarTeddyBear
Summary: Bucky doesn't know what he expected to happen when he followed his friend Natasha's plan to win over his long-time crush and real-life-dream-come-true Tony Stark. But, after months of pretending to be failing his Advanced Algebra class so that he can have Tony tutor him, he's not only more head-over-heels for Tony, but also very much certain that his feelings aren't reciprocated.This last thought is what leads him to tell Tony that they have to end their tutoring sessions. Revelations follow.(Fluffy & Sappy High School AU)(Title from Joan Didion's writing in "Slouching Toward Bethlehem")
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 131





	An Infinitely Romantic Notion

_**Infinitely Romantic Notion** _

* * *

“I don’t think this is working, doll,” Bucky announced when Tony had taken all of his things out of his backpack and gotten them arranged on the surface of the large wooden table that they always sat at in the library.

The shorter of the two looked up with wide chocolate brown eyes. Big and pretty Bambi eyes that Bucky always got lost in and— _no, James, get those thoughts out of your goddamn head._

“W-what?” asked Tony, faltering slightly. He was arranging all his things, his notebooks and his pens and his textbooks, and at Bucky’s announcement a confused expression was making itself appear on his adorable face as he paused.

Bucky cleared his throat, hoping it would clear his head from all those thoughts about how _cute_ Tony looked with a slight blush along his cheeks and how his dark hair—always in a state of slight disarray atop his head—was just _calling_ for him to reach out and ruffle gently at the soft tresses. How his ACDC band tee hung just _perfectly_ on his narrow figure, resting gracefully along the slight definition in his shoulders, and how the rustling of his assortment of bracelets halted when he heard what Bucky had said. The blue-eyed teen repeated, “I said that I don’t think this is working anymore, Tony. I don’t think we should continue with these tutoring sessions anymore.”

Tony’s eyes widened even more then, impossibly so. “What do you mean? Have you been having some issues? Because if there’s a problem with how I’ve been tutoring you then we can try and fix it." Bucky knew from the desperate glint that had invaded Tony’s eyes that he was going to start rambling: “We all learn differently, so maybe we just need to try some different learning techniques if you feel that how I’ve been tutoring you hasn’t been working. I can do a better job, really. I might’ve been distracted these past few weeks, and I’m sorry about that but the robotics team is preparing for Nationals, and I’ve had some issues with _Howard_ , and those things might’ve affected my performance as a tutor. But I know that I can be better, _really_ , Bucky, I can-”

“Tony, Tony, hey, _Tony_ ,” Bucky said, trying to get the Stark bloke to stop his rambling, punctuating the last call of his name by grabbing Tony’s hands. His palms and fingers were scarred slightly and calloused by hours working in the auto-mechanic shop at their school and his own brilliant “tinkering" at home.

_(God, it was so cute how he called it tinkering. As if he was just repairing a lamp instead of being a literal genius who created fully functional, speaking automatons)_

The brunet effectively stopped talking when Bucky clasped his hands in his own. He swallowed, gaze focused on their hands for a moment and Bucky knew that his mind must’ve been going a mile a minute. He could practically hear the gears turning and engines whirring as Tony's thoughts buzzed around, brow slightly furrowed. It seemed that Tony’s big brown eyes remained on their joined hands for an eternity before he finally looked up and met Bucky’s gaze, voice sounding utterly _crushed_ as he said, looking like a kicked puppy dog, “I’m so sorry that I haven’t been a great tutor for you so far, James.”

And Bucky didn't even know what to say to that. Mainly because he _couldn't_ fault Tony on that, the guy was _brilliant_ , he was truly astounding. Bucky knew that when everyone at their school fawned over him and said that Tony was going to “change the world” it wasn't just run-of-the-mill standard praise from adults. He was in another league entirely, and Bucky had once jokingly asked why he hadn't skipped high school altogether and just headed to uni, Tony had replied that it had been his original plan and he went on casually as if he hadn’t revealed just how much of a genius he was. Yeah, he could've bypassed high school if he'd wanted to but he had yearned to have a “ _regular teenage experience_ ” instead of being the celebrated young prodigy graduating college at 18.

“I want to go to prom and stuff, y’know?” he had replied, bashfully ducking his head. 

And though Bucky didn’t know the feeling—he’d wanted out of high school since the first week of his freshman year—he knew that Tony’s intelligence had no fault. He was perfectly competent in teaching advanced algebra to an upperclassman, and Bucky had marveled at how thoroughly and precisely Tony was able to cover the class material with him in their three-times-a-week sessions in the library and the cafe a short drive from their school. He was better than _any_ teacher that Bucky had ever had, honestly. "You could probably make my friend Clint get an A,” Bucky had praised one day a couple of weeks ago when Tony had congratulated him when the senior told him his teacher had commented on his improvement, “and he’s a _total_ _dumbass_ , really.”

So, no, the issue at hand wasn’t that Tony wasn’t a good tutor. 

It was Bucky’s plan to seduce the other teen that wasn’t working. 

It had all been Natasha’s idea and Bucky would’ve readily blamed her if he wasn’t as afraid of her as he was. She had been his best friend since forever, having been primary school classmates and they had gone to the same ballet studio too. They’d bonded over ballet at first and their twelve-year-long friendship had been born from their mutual interest in dance, sharing peanut butter cookies over conversations on playing marzipans in their studio’s yuletide production of The Nutcracker. Though Bucky had stopped dancing in his early teens, Natasha kept at it. She had a true passion for dancing and he always made a point of going to watch her practice when he could. She was a vision to watch perform: every move precise, working with the utmost delicate understanding of her body and the way she moved, an ethereal and awe-striking captivating figure as she spun around the stage. 

She had that same precise nature to seemingly everything else in her life. From her perfect posture to the sharp glint in her eyes when she’d level someone down with her trademark _Natasha Glare™_ , and she had spoken it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world: “Approach him, tell him you’re struggling with your algebra grade and that you need to maintain a high average or else you’ll be dropped from the football team. Act like you’re not good at maths and have him tutor you. Take that time to get to know him and show that you’re a catch, get him to fall in love with you, win his heart, and all that stuff.”

“Do you really think that’ll work?” Bucky had asked, albeit what came out of his mouth was a muffled mess around a mouthful of greasy french fries. His friend group had decided on an impromptu outing to their favorite burger joint downtown and their teenage appetite fully manifested itself in them wolfing down their bacon-laden burgers. Natasha’s disapproving glance had him rolling his eyes, chewing and swallowing before he asked the question again, this time sans fries though her withering stare of distaste remained. 

Steve, his other best friend, shrugged. “It might just work, Buck,” he said with an encouraging smile. 

“Go for it, bro,” nodded Sam, who seemed more engrossed in his phone than in their present conversation, though Bucky couldn’t quite blame him. His friend was in the middle of a conversation with Sharon Carter, the girl he’d had heart-eyes for the past seven months so he let it slide. 

“I’m not even failing Advanced Algebra though,” Bucky pondered aloud, frowning.

Natasha rolled her eyes so hard that Bucky wondered if her eyeballs hurt with the amount of effort she exerted. “Pretend, _тупой_ , honestly,” she breathed out, delicately reaching across the table, stealing one of his french fries and eating it with an exasperated shake of the head. 

Both of them knew Russian, Natasha more than him, and they frequently used little Russian nicknames. They did it mainly because Natasha claimed she couldn’t allow her “ _image_ ” to be ruined by calling him “ _волк детка_ ” in English which all their friends would laugh about. Bucky agreed that it would have his mates on his back for about a century if they learned she called him “ _wolf baby_ ” since they were both toddlers. 

“Okay, fine, fine, I’ll pretend,” he had sighed, doing so in the most dramatic manner possible, earning an eye roll from Steve, and then proceeded to ask, “But do we think that it’ll work?”

Clint—ever the voice of reason—guffawed loudly and added, “Yeah, it’ll work. And if it doesn’t, then at least it’ll get you to _stop talking about Tony Stark_ , man.”

As it was, Bucky had been hopelessly in love with Tony even longer than Sam had been googly-eyed over Sharon. His friends, as polite (except for Clint, that dude was raised by feral mountain lions or something) as they were, had endured around a year of his incessant longing gaze directed to Tony’s table during their lunch period and his yearning anecdotes of how he’d _seen Tony come out of his Advanced English Lit class yesterday_ and how he _saw him last week in the supermarket_ and how he _saw him in the bleachers during their last football game and “guys, he looked so cute, like...damn guys, he's just so perfect and...”_

So, he’d mustered up the courage to approach Tony one day in the hall. The genius was uncharacteristically standing by his locker by himself, usually to be seen with one of his friends in the halls, and Bucky had decided that if he ended up humiliating himself it would be better to do so with an audience of one rather than three or four or five. “Hey, Tony,” he’d greeted when he approached the bloke, trying to will himself to not mess up their interaction. Tony had startled slightly and looked up at him with those big and dream-like _Disney prince eyes_ of his and Bucky had felt _seen_ like he never had before in his life. Somehow he’d managed to speak without sounding like he was having a battle with the English language and had told Tony about his made-up issue and how he needed to improve his grade in Advanced Algebra or he’d be dropped from the football team and that he wanted to know if Tony could tutor him. 

“O-Oh, yeah, yeah, of course!” Tony had replied with a small chuckle and Oh Lord, why did that sound like the most heavenly little angelic tune? _Why God, why did you have to do this?_

Regardless of the melodic perfection of Tony’s laugh, it seemed to Bucky that his efforts in seducing Tony had been fruitless. That was why he had to cut this tutoring thing, he couldn’t in good conscious keep wasting Tony’s time by pretending to be struggling in his maths class when he was just using it as a front to seduce him, an ulterior motive which wasn’t working at all. 

Firstly, it seemed that Tony had his eyes on someone else entirely. And that person who Tony was in love with was very much not Bucky but instead his friend Pepper. That pretty girl who seemed way too put-together for a teenager with her Ivy League ready credentials in student government and her silver medal in fencing from the Buenos Aires Youth Olympics in 2018. She had flawless commercial-worthy ginger hair that caught the sunlight just perfectly when she’d flip it over her shoulder and show off a swan-like neck, an impeccable style of skirt suits paired with silky tops and suede block heels. Bucky had noticed the bright look that Tony always had on his face when he looked at her, adoring and mesmerized like she was the sun that he orbited around. 

She seemingly reciprocated his feelings. Bucky could tell by the easy way in which she leaned against him when they walked to class together, her two-tone expensive kitten heels clicking softly on the floor. He could see it in the jovial smiles she sent his way during their lunch period when she sat across from him, the flirty little laugh she’d let out at his shocked face when she’d snatch away one of his apple slices. How she laid her hands on his when they studied together, how she hugged him so tightly every morning when they’d meet up at his locker before heading to their first period. 

They were going to make a perfect couple one day, Bucky had reasoned with himself in the depths of the night as he thought over his feelings. She came from one of those well-to-do respectable families who owned a summer house in the Hamptons and had a ski reservation in Switzerland for the holidays, something else that Bucky supposed made her a better candidate to be by Tony’s side than him. Unlike Bucky, Pepper’s parents were loaded, working in some sort of insurance or finance thing, and she had a gloss to her appearance: never a hair out of place, always smelling sweet of honey and jasmine and with her designer-label silky blouses and tweed skirt suits that made her look like a young Jackie O.

Tony had never made Bucky feel bad or different about their different economic positions, that was for sure. Bucky’s mother was a nurse and worked long shifts while his dad had a restaurant downtown, both of them hard-working people and Bucky prided himself in that. Bucky had never felt ashamed of his working-middle-class lifestyle and he surely wasn’t planning on starting anytime soon. Their house wasn’t a mansion in the same way that Tony had his own wing of the house in his family’s estate on the outskirts of their town, but it was theirs, a cozy and warm and lived-in place, with Bucky sharing anecdotes about all the family photos hanging on the walls. The stairs he’d fallen down one time when he was seven and rushing down them because he needed to know if Santa got him the plushie Winnie Pooh bear for Christmas. The story behind why his mother loved gardening so much, pointing out old pictures of his dad when he was in the military, a factoid concerning his sister and him roughhousing leaving a dent in the wall in the hallway which was covered by a console table. Tony had never turned his nose up at Bucky’s place when he’d come over once they started hanging out outside the parameters of tutoring either. He seemed perfectly at ease with crowding beside him and his sister on the couch when they’d watch Netflix on the t.v. in the living room and he ate his Ma’s slightly-overcooked roast with gusto.

“It’s delicious, Mrs. Barnes,” he had eagerly proclaimed when his mother tried to apologize for the cook of the meat as he served himself. “Winnie, sweetie, just call me Winnie,” she had replied with a warm smile, telling Bucky later that she liked his boyfriend a lot.

“He’s not my _boyfriend_ , Ma!” he’d cried out that evening, glaring at his sister who was enjoying the conversation too much.

Becca had chirped, “Buck wishes that Tony would go out with him, mom.”

“Oh, Bucky dear, it’s _clear_ that you’re head over heels for this boy,” his mother had chuckled, reaching over and pinching his cheeks. 

His sister, ever helpful, had chuckled, "If only Tony were as interested in my brother as Jamie is in him."

Turning to glare at her, Bucky had grunted out, "Shut up, _you little ласка_!" 

"Ma, did you hear what your son just called me!" his sister had cried out despite having a wide smile on her face and the siblings began another one of their trademark playful shouting arguments, their mother rolling her eyes fondly at the pair.

Still, Bucky reasoned with himself that even if someone of Tony’s economic background would be friends with Bucky, they’d certainly never see him as _relationship_ material. Tony probably only dated millionaires, he thought, a fact that he felt was cemented when Tony made an absentminded comment about his ex Justin who turned out to be Justin Hammer (the smarmy guy that Bucky had met at a house party one time whose dad owned Hammer Tech) and how he’d gone out with Susan Storm (yeah, one of _those_ Storms) in the summer between freshman and sophomore year before they realized they were better off as friends and he’d set her up with his buddy Reed. Bucky thought to himself, _his parents wouldn’t ever let him date someone like me_... 

“Dude, _no_ ,” Steve had said plainly when he’d brought up the fact the day before that he knew Tony was in love with Pepper. His friend was busying himself with his sketchpad, apparently having decided to draw his girlfriend Peggy (cousin to Sam’s inamorata) a bunch of romantic sketches of them in his “favorite moments they had together”. Steve didn’t even deign to look up from where he was drawing them together at the ice skating rink they’d gone to for her birthday as he shot down Bucky’s idea about Tony and Pepper being in love with one another. 

Natasha somehow looked decorous even in her slouched position on the floor in front of the t.v., eyes bright as she maneuvered her avatar away from a horde of zombies, besides the armchair currently occupied by a dozed-off Clint. She protested too, employing again her extreme eye roll, “That doesn’t even make _sense_ , Bucky.”

“Tony doesn’t care about money, Bucky,” Steve went on, not looking up from his sketchpad still as he slanted his pencil slightly, shading in something as he spoke, “When has he ever given you that impression, Buck?”

Sam chimed in, looking up from where he was reading from his European History textbook, highlighting the fact that they’d initially convened at Steve’s house with the plan of studying together. That plan had fallen away about an hour ago, when they’d decided to take a break and Natasha had announced that they ought to have a zombie-slaying tournament on Steve’s gaming console. “Tony is way down to earth, man,” Sam reminded Bucky, shaking his head slightly as he shut the textbook, “he doesn’t pay attention to shit like that.”

“Yeah, man. Either way, everyone knows that Pepper Potts is _totally_ head-over-heels for James Rhodes,” chirped Thor who returned to his hunched-over position beside Clint, sharpie in hand and with a mission of finishing the mustache he’d been drawing on the sleeping guy. 

“Pepper loves Rhodey, that’s true,” Pietro remarked from beside Natasha before groaning loudly as the horde of zombies approached the run-down building his avatar was hiding in, Pietro and his sister Wanda, who was cheering on Natasha and actively heckling her brother, were the newest additions to their friend group, new students who’d arrived from Eastern Europe at the start of the semester. They’d joined the group after Pietro joined the football team and then he’d brought his sister, an introvert who soon warmed up and let her walls come down, to one of their group hangouts. 

Bucky had frowned. “What? No, guys, _you don’t get it_. They’re totally in love with each other! Pepper and Tony!” he had insisted.

“Bucky, I am telling you right now that you are very wrong,” Natasha stated, holding up a finger and effectively silencing Bucky when he’s opened his mouth to argue. She continued, explaining, “Pepper is in love with Rhodey. He’s into her too but is too much of a _dork_ to just ask her out. Also, he thinks that she’s into Peter for some reason which is absolutely _ridiculous_ because Parker is absolutely heart-eyes for _Harley Keener_. Peter’s been crushing on him hard since _forever_ and honestly, Keener is into him too, has been for _ages_ , but he thinks that his past heartbreaking and womanizing ways make him not enough for Peter. He thinks Peter deserves better than him.”

Everyone had frowned. 

“How do you know all of this?” Thor asked, eyes narrowing as he looked up from Clint who now sported a Salvador Dali-looking mustache, still snoring. 

With a smirk, Natasha had replied coolly, “I know _everything_ , boys.”

Disregarding Natasha’s ability to obtain information on everyone and _everything_ , Bucky wasn’t convinced still. He knew it deep down that Tony was into Pepper and it was a hard pill to swallow, mainly because he’d honestly thought that he had a shot with the Stark heir. They got along really well, something that Bucky was incredibly relieved about because, though he’d been longing from afar for some time now and had always admired Tony’s undeniable good looks, he very much appreciated the amazing personality that Tony had as well. 

He was funny, brilliant and charming, always ready with a quick quip and lit up every room that he walked into it seemed. Bucky and he had started talking outside their tutoring sessions, and now had a quite healthy and lengthy rapport over text, constantly sending each other memes and complaints about how everything sucked, Bucky captivated by the other’s shining wit and his humor. He’d honestly stopped breathing for a moment that one time that Tony had responded to his “good morning” text with a selfie of himself lying in bed, sleep-rumpled hair fanned around his gorgeous face, a stream of golden early-morning sunlight making his complexion look it was literally glowing. His sister Becca had snapped her fingers a couple of times in front of his face before he broke out of the spell that had been cast upon him by the most beautiful image he’d ever seen in his life. 

They had chemistry he thought, what with how easily conversations flowed, ranging from everything from their favorite movies (“What do you mean you haven’t seen Star Wars?” Tony had gasped one day, which had led to Tony coming over to his place the following weekend with a whole box set of the movies and enough microwavable popcorn to feed an army) to their dreams for after high school. Bucky patiently listened to him during their phone calls that extended into the night as Tony talked about how he felt pressured to take over the family business one day but how he did truly have a passion for engineering. 

When they had started hanging out in person too, spending time together that didn’t involve Bucky’s Algebra assignments, and Tony had invited Bucky to his house, he’d gleamed with pride, a wide smile upon his face, when he led him to the garage. It was massive and had formerly housed Tony’s father’s (Howard, never “dad” or “father” or any title of the sort, just _Howard_ ) collection of vintage sports cars before he’d moved them all across the country to the family’s home in Malibu. The hangar-like garage of the house had been converted by Tony into his personal workshop and the many tables were crammed with tools, metal, computer screens and monitors and circuitry. A robot, that Tony said was named DUM-E and casually mentioned he’d built when he was seven (“hence the name,” he’d added, ducking away bashfully), beeped excitedly ( _could robots be excited?_ Bucky had pondered afterward) when Tony had presented Bucky to the robot with a flourish of a hand.

“This is Bucky, DUM-E,” Tony had proclaimed, a wide smile on his face. The robot let out a series of beeping noises and Tony chuckled, “I think he likes you.”

Tony had a passion for building things, for making and _creating_. He had built the car that he drove to school every day, this being revealed after Bucky had asked what kind of car he had in one of their first tutoring sessions, and yet somehow had a panicky look on his face when he wondered aloud one day about being denied admission to MIT upon graduation. Natasha, who seemed to be omniscient, claimed that Tony’s flashes of self-doubt stemmed from his troubled relationship with his father who never deemed anything that Tony did to be enough. With that knowledge in mind, Bucky had made it a mission to devote himself to building up Tony in every and any way that he could. 

“MIT would be _lucky_ to even be considered by you, Tony,” Bucky had said one day while Tony drove them to the nearby Kirby Cafe they sometimes preferred to study at and hang out in. 

Tony’s mouth opened, seemingly to protest but Bucky held up a finger, having learned from Natasha and feeling content when it actually worked and Tony paused. “You’re out of this world, Tony, brilliant beyond belief, and if you say _one more word_ against that today then you’re going to have to buy me all the blueberry scones that I want this week”

“But, Buck-”

“All the blueberry scones that I want for the _rest of the school year_ , Tony,” Bucky warned.

“Fine,” the chocolate-eyed junior had grumbled. 

In turn, Tony too was filled with encouraging words when Bucky mentioned that he was pondering studying political sciences. He was positively ebullient when Bucky added that he thought about maybe working in policy advocacy or one day maybe running for public office. 

“We need good-hearted people like you in power, Bucky,” Tony had beamed over the phone, a loud clanging sound signaling that he was going at it in one of his late-night tinkering sessions. 

Chuckling and lifting a hand to rub the sleep from his eyes, not wanting to hang up yet, Bucky had downplayed it, “Aw, thanks, doll. It’s just something I’ve thought about, nothing like, too serious.”

Bucky hadn’t realized he’d called Tony “doll” until it was too late and it was already out his mouth. He had certainly not been planning on using the sweet name he always used for Tony in his dreams where they were a happy couple (who went on to have 2 dogs and live happily together, having romantic dinners and a backyard vegetable garden-hey, let a guy have his domestic fantasies), but his sleep-addled brain obviously was putting forth minimal effort in not revealing his crush to the Italian-American guy of his dreams.

Bucky had felt instantly awake after that though, and he’d started rushing out an apology, “I’m sorry, Tony, damn man, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Tony had replied quickly, interrupting. He’d felt a rosy heat rise to his cheeks and even though he couldn’t see Tony’s face (his gorgeous, angelic, portrait-looking pretty face) he heard the blush in his words when he continued, “It’s okay, really, Bucky. It’s...doll is fine.”

He’d reveled in using the sweet moniker freely after that. A pretty pink hue flushed at Tony’s cheeks the first time he used it outside of their text and phone conversations. A soft red blush that made him look even more like a storybook prince in Bucky’s lovesick eyes the first time he used it in person, during one of their study sessions at Kirby over caramel-drizzle coffee cake and foamy frappuccinos. 

Still, regardless, of their connection and how it seemed that Tony liked him as a person, Bucky was sure that his hopes would never come to fruition. He’d never be the one who Tony looked at with those big and starry eyes as if he’d been the one to hang the moon up in the sky, not in the same way that he looked at Pepper. The realization stung, yeah, it hurt like hell, but Bucky had made up his mind the previous night while in bed that he had to put a halt to the tutoring sessions. He couldn’t waste Tony’s time, even if eliminating their tutoring sessions meant that Tony would probably cut off their entire friendship.

“No, Tony, you’re great,” Bucky reassured, and he felt his stomach tighten at the crestfallen look on the other guy’s face, how he looked like a kicked puppy with his slightly-downturned pout and his furrowed brow, “really, it’s just...not working out like I thought it would.”

“I thought you were improving, though? Right? Your grade was getting better?” Tony hurriedly asked, and Bucky felt how the Italian’s hands, still encased in his own, fidgeted slightly. 

He didn’t know what it was that made him decide to do it. Maybe it was the pleading look in Tony’s eyes, how he seemed to _desperately_ try and find a reason as to why Bucky was terminating their tutoring arrangement, or maybe it was because, with the thought that his plan had failed, there wasn’t any point in keeping up charades. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but when he opened his mouth to speak, the truth of it all came pouring out, “Tony I’m not bad at Advanced Algebra. Granted, I might not be the best and yes, having you as my tutor has helped clear up some things, but I was never going to fail the class and I just made all of that up. It was my friend Natasha’s idea. To fake being bad at Algebra so that I could ask you to tutor me, Tony. I can’t keep wasting your time though.”

It all came out, like a rushing stream without a damn. The truth now out, Bucky felt his shoulders sag with a small sigh as he watched Tony’s face. He could see when Tony worked through information, the nearly imperceptible twitch of his nose, how his gaze darted all about. His hazelnut colored eyes would flit between his assortment of ballpoint pens to their clasped hands to the forgotten Algebra textbook beside him like he was visually connecting things together in a mental diagram. 

“W-Why did you fake being bad at maths?” Tony asked, his head tilting ever so slightly. 

Bucky swallowed. He’d already revealed that the need for tutoring was a farce, so why not just rip the entire curtain back and expose himself?

“I’m really into you, Tony. I've been sweet on you for a while, for a long time now, for months before I went up to you to see if you’d tutor me, actually. My friends suggested this whole tutoring thing because then I could spend time with you and actually talk to you and get to know you better and...” he noticed Tony’s widening eyes and was suddenly very aware of their hands, still clasped together on the table, “And I know that you don’t like me, so it makes no sense to keep up this whole thing of pretending to tutor you so you spend time with me. I know that you like Pepper, and it’s fine, you two are probably going to be great together, and I’m sorry that I wasted your time for months. This is so weird, I’m sorry,” he apologized rushedly, suddenly moving to pull his hands away from Tony’s and stand up.

Stand up and leave and _run away forever_ because what else could he do? He’d just openly admitted to Tony, the guy that he’d been sweet on for so long now, that he’d intentionally wasted his time for months just so he could spend time with him because he had a major crush on him. It wasn’t like Tony was going to just brush that off and be like, “oh, well that’s chill, man,” _of course not,_ Bucky thought, inner voice having a callous tone. He’d made peace with the fact that Tony would probably never want to talk to him again, at least not like before, that he’d ignore him in the halls and evade crossing paths with him during the football games that everyone in their school went to. They’d melt away into being strangers, Bucky knew, and he had already started mentally preparing himself for the fact that he had fully ruined his chance with the guy of his dreams. 

He was startled by the other’s grip on his hands when he made an attempt to pull away. His blue eyes flickered between Tony’s face, which held an unreadable expression, and their hands, still together, with Tony’s smaller hands holding his, not letting him rush away.

“Y-you _like_ me?” asked Tony, his tone wavering slightly.

Bucky swallowed. God, was Tony going to make him _repeat_ himself? Shame him by making him retell his stupid plan to get to spend time with him? Was that what this was?

He nodded, regardless. Ducking his head slightly, not wanting to meet Tony’s eyes, he swallowed, “Yeah, I like you. I like you a lot, have for a while now. I’m sorry, Tony.”

“W-Why sorry?”

The Barnes teen’s crystalline blue eyes looked up, meeting the hazelnut eyes belonging to Tony. He had an open expression on his face, and so he gruffed out a response, “I’m sorry for wasting your time. I’m sorry for making this weird for you, I can’t imagine-”

He stopped though, because Tony was letting go of his hands and standing up himself. _Fuck, fuck, he’s leaving,_ he cursed in his mind, but then the Italian wasn’t packing up all of his things that he’d set on the table. No, instead he was walking, walking around the table and coming over to him and-

“I like you a lot too, James,” Tony said, coming to a halt beside Bucky, who stared up at him, His mouth fell open and his eyes widened impossibly, and all the air was being snatched out of his lungs as Tony crouched down. Their eyes were now level and _God_ , he could see the smattering of freckles across Tony’s nose and how thick his lashes were, but he couldn’t even appreciate the beauty of Tony up close because his mind was whirring, going a mile a minute as he tried to somehow compute what Tony had said. He liked him? He liked him? As in... Tony _liked him?_

Bucky didn’t even realize what was happening, still sent on a whirl with the bombshell that _Tony liked him_ when the Italian was leaning close and then they were kissing. 

He’s startled, more because it’s just a lot to process in such a short amount of time (that Tony hasn’t run away after his realization, that he apparently likes him too, that he’s kissing him now) than because he doesn’t want it to occur. He does, he _so_ does, and so when he recuperates himself from the temporary shock he kisses back. Tony’s lips are soft and they taste like sugary candy and soda and pomegranate lip balm, and his hands reach out to softly cradle the other teen’s face. He _had_ to touch Tony, had to feel the pooling of ruby red flush in the other’s cheeks, had to feel the telltale warmth of human flesh to know that the moment was real, to know it was happening then and there, that it’s tangible. 

The kiss was nice, it was slow and chaste, two people kissing for the first time with the thought that there’ll be plenty of more kisses in the future. That was why it isn't rushed, the opposite really. Their kiss was nice and sweet, slow and gentle and easy, Bucky’s fingertips tracing the line of Tony’s cheekbones as he felt the other’s hands on his forearms, as if seeking that contact that the moment was true in reality. 

When they parted, both blinking their eyes open as if in some fairytale daze, their gazes met: bright cerulean and warm cocoa. 

“I can’t believe you thought I was into _Pepper_ ,” chuckled Tony, breaking out into a small laugh which only grows when he saw Bucky’s hands lift to cover his face and when he heard the latter’s groan. “She’s my best friend, she’s like a sister to me.”

“I thought you two were into each other!”

“ _Everyone knows she’s in love with my friend Rhodey too,_ ” Tony added which made Bucky let out another groan because of course, _of course, his friends had been right!_

Tony’s hands were soft and gentle when they gripped his, gingerly pulling them away from his face where Bucky knew his fair skin had acquired some of that ruddy flush that came with embarrassment. The genius’s eyes were intent on him, focused, warm pools of chocolate ganache, and his smile was big and sincere when he spoke, “I really like you, James. I’ve liked you for _so_ long, James."

Bucky didn’t intend for his voice to sound as small as it did when he spoke next but he asked, “Really?”, faltering slightly as he did.

Tony smiled in response. His teeth were pearly white, and his eyes twinkle with joy as they met Bucky’s blue ones. He nodded eagerly, “Honestly, my friends were probably ready to suggest some scheming plan too if I didn’t get over you soon.!”

“Is this it then? Are we...are we a thing?” Bucky asked, feeling slightly trepidatious, his nervous wavering countering the mysterious-bad-boy-bravado image that he prided himself on having. 

“I’d like that,” Tony nodded, “I’d like that a lot, James.”

“Will you be my boyfriend, Tony?” Bucky asked, a wide grin pulling at the corners of his lips as he reached out, grabbing Tony’s hands, clasping them in his gently. His fingertips mapped the calloused lines along Tony’s fingers, intent of committing every inch of Tony to memory.

The genius beamed, “I’d love that, Bucky,” and he gave his hand a squeeze.

Tony’s laugh sounded like angels singing and the gates of a celestial paradise opening when he let himself be hauled into Bucky’s arms in a tight hug. Bucky’s Advanced Algebra textbook lay forgotten on the table as their lips met once more, a slow kiss.

Bucky wasn’t even failing Advanced Algebra. And he had a lapful of the bloke of his dreams, so, really, _what did it matter anymore?_

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title from Joan Didion's writing in Slouching Toward Bethlehem.
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the fic! I'd greatly appreciate any kudos, comments or feedback if you'd like to leave some!


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